Nicked from Kenneth.
Ooh...I can grow up to 3 feet in a 24 hour period? Oh, haha. Bull. As if. I wish. :/
HEY and I contain a lot of Vitamin C, okayy. I, like, take my multivits everyday.
Yessss I founded the Church of Scientology. Whatever that is, and whatever it encompasses. Fear me.
OhOH and. Research shows that the average person only uses 4% of their brainpower; so actually, if you think about it, Cara using "only about ten percent of her brain" is, in truth, pretty darn good. *grin*
And apparently, I increase the adverse affects of alcohol. Moral of the story: Inviting me to pubs is a bad idea.

Unless, of course, you adapt the YYY persona and tell the person at the counter, " Hi. We're all under sixteen. Do you serve drinks to people in this age group?"

xD.

But whatever. I'm gonna be the good little girl that I am and do my History revision now.
*nod*

So buhbyee.


Everyone keeps asking me if I'm okay.
What am I supposed to tell them?
"No, I'm not okay"...and then what?
It just doesn't work that way.

"Are you okay?" is a rhetorical question...there's only one right answer; one answer safe and convential and conversational enough to give. Anything less will only result in a potential downpour of tears and confessions which lose their lustre as they jerk from lips which have locked them in for far too long.

"I'm okay."

That's all you have to say.

Then you're safe. The conversation will end comfortably, without any unneccessary awkwardness. You won't have to explain anything.

It just ends there.

A girl razors the canvas of her wrist to feel alive;
While another spends the night crying into her pillow
because she's realized that love hits hard.
A guy stands at the edge of a bridge because
he saw his girlfriend with another guy last night;;
And another hangs himself because he has no-one.
A girl makes herself throw up to feel a sense of control;
another person does cocaine for the same reason.
And these are supposed to be the best years of our lives?

Ahh. Enough of the inane moody cow-ness.
My apologies for the Oh-Woe-Is-Me Syndrome.
I promise y'all a happy hyper post next time. (:




Mehh.

Randomosity.

Today we had a wedding lunch...my cousin ( I think) got married. Oh, my family tree is wayy complicated. I discover that I have new relatives whom I've never seen in my life; every year. It always happens. Without fail. This Chinese New Year, I unearthed four new relatives.
Today, I found out that I'm actually related to my godmother.
Weird.

Anyway- about the lunch. It was so good. My aunt (or something thereof; we're related somehow...) is the founder of Bengawan Solo, so there was this spread of goodies. Mmm. I had to literally place a restraining order between myself and the food, to make sure that I didn't gorge myself. I ate, though- and boy was it good.

Then later on back home I had a major panic attack...I started getting mopey, crying, etcetc. (Stupid adolescent emo inclinations.) Soo. My mum suggested that I take the dog out for a jog. Which I did. *grin*
And, lo and behold. We made it to Dynasty Garden...and then Champs just stopped in his tracks. And refused to move. It was so embarrassing. I was tugging and pulling on his leash, and he just didn't. want. to. go.
Eeuurrghh.
I was, like, "Hello, Champs?! I'm having an insecure day today and I reaaaally want to jog. Could you, like, help, please?!"

...Who says dogs can empathise with humans?

So we- *heavy sigh*- turned around and headed back home. THEN Champs picked up his pace- and goshdarnit, he could run. (*mutters under breath*) BUTBUT. I tricked him and made a detour on the way home, to the row of shops further down to get a bottle of Evian (for him) and a bottle of Diet Coke (for me).
On the way there, he realized that I had duped him, and totally got mopey.
Serves him right.

In any case, we made it back home.

Tomorrow I'm going to be taking golf lessons xD My dad signed me up, haha. I've never seen the point of golf, but heck. I'll just give it a whack. Besides, my 'rents say that after golf lessons I can hit the gym...woohoo!
Extra hoo.
Yessssss. *is extraordinarily pumped about this incredibly lame fact*
I haven't graced a gym since we came back from KL. All the exercise I've been doing since then is amateur boarding and jogging...and weights. And I literally feel myself getting out of shape, ugh. But tomorrow I shall have fun playing with all the exercise machines. (: The treadmill is my friend. Weights are not, but I intend to make them a close confidante too. Someday.

*is starting to sound incoherent*

Kay now, I'm going to end off here. More holiday homework awaits...bummer.
I shall embark on this ardous quest, and get myself another glass of Diet Coke. (It took me five minutes to open the bottle...and I had to resort to opening it with a nutcracker. -.-'')

I MISS CAP.
I MISS 2G. (YOU GUYS BETTER MISS ME TOO.)
I MISS AU.

Oh gosh, I miss AU. *points to Official AU Oldie badge* ...I was reading through some emails from Elemm and Seld and Yav and Ele, and it totally brought back good memories. Good times, good times. And now- the tagboard has been completely INVADED by n00bs! Grrrr. Hate n00bs. Hate. Hate.
But I'm back on the AU forum, and people recognize me, and I feel slightly more loved again. :D

Make me feel more loved and leave a tag.
Pleaseandthankyouwithmaraschinocherriesontop.


I'm bored, and since Kenneth and Nicholas have been so rapidly updating...I think I'll just add another entry. Just for the heck of it.

I've decided that humans are a very amusing bunch of people. The smartest...and by far the most stupid.

First off.
Why do people strive so hard to excel in something- when it only means that their worst fear will become the fear of losing the ability to pull off that particular something? Example: A ballerina. She trains for hours on end; works her way through countless pairs of shoes every week; goes to bed with bleeding feet; forces herself to plaster on a mechanical smile, even when her muscles are screaming out in protest as she twists herself in various unnatural positions. And what is a dancer's greatest fear?
...Not being able to dance.
Isn't it insane, how humans put themselves through so much? It would seem almost as if they enjoyed the pain of it all. But still, I find it horrendously amusing that people should aim for a goal so lofty that a fear of equal (if not greater) status shadows them.

Secondly.
Stereotypes.
We can never escape them.
Trust me- I've tried. Countless times.
Think with me, for a moment. Remember the harajuku girls? J-Pop culture? (oh gag me please.) Anyway. How did they all first come about? Yeah, that's right. It started out with one person who launched a brave attempt to be different- to break away from the norm. Oh wow, and look what happened. It became a whole new fad...and was, sadly, reduced to being mainstream.
It was inevitable.
How about the Goths? (FYI I'm not a Goth; for those of you who think I am. I don't even know how you classify a Goth- most of them are just poseurs. I mean; you could just take James Blunt, deck him out in all black, slather on the black eyeliner and add random wails and caterwauls into "You're Beautiful"...and whammo. Some people would probably already classify THAT is Goth.) It all originated through a bunch of teenagers who were unhappy with their middle-class lives. They saw the suffering of the people, and basically-rebelled against the comfort which they had not earned.
Yeah, and whoaaa. Look what we have now. Third Generation Gothie-wannabes who think that Gothdom is all about wearing black and silver; wanting to be vampires (Hey people- you could, like, contract AIDS); and looking as thin and pale as possible. "Goth" has simply become an overused term- another stereotype; no different from any of the others.
You can run and hide all you like from stereotypes- but. They. Will. Hunt. You. Down.

Yeah, and another thing.
Love.
So what's the big deal about love?
(I know I sound pessimistic- and I know love is vital. But just bear with me here.)
We let ourselves love people. We slowly break down the barriers and let them in; give them our trust. Why? Why do we do this? Why do we make ourselves so vulnerable? ...After all; the ones you love the most are most often the ones who hurt you the worst.
My theory? You have to get your heart broken at least once before you can find that one special person. I haven't had my heart broken yet, thankfully- but I'm not looking forward to it.
*makes a valiant effort to NOT end this point off pessimistically*
Still; without love, nothing would happen. Nada. Zilch. We could all go and commit mass suicide; and there wouldn't be a difference. Love makes people tick.
So don't tell me it's not worth fighting for.

...I'm bored; even of musing about the great mysteries of our vast universe.
*sagely nod*
But I have one more question for myself, and for anybody.
What is hope? Or, better phrased- what USE is hope?
Hope is the denial of reality. In the words of Raistlin: "It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." Ha. He'll never reach it, poor fellow. But it keeps him going on, anyway.
But for what? And to what?
Home, eventually, at the end of the day. To rest. To his own stable.
...And to wake up the next day to another backbreaking episode of following the elusive carrot.
Does hope ever really get us anywhere?
No, for the draft horse. But still, I suppose that in the best circumstances; it'll give us enough willpower to reach the end of the tunnel.
In the best circumstances.

...(Sigh.) I'm bored.
And feeling random.
And in the mood to think.

What if I was the only person in the whole world?
If I murdered someone, it would be a suicide. I would be my mother; putting a band-aid on my own knee when I fall down at the playground. I would be my father's arms, teaching myself how to use a chainsaw. I would be my own teacher, and I would be my own student. I would be the one in front of the chalkboard, and the one sitting in her desk, listening.
I would be my own friend...and my worst enemy.
I would ride off into the sunset with myself, just like in a Cinderella story gone wrong. I would raise myself in a quiet little town, and I would pack myself off to kindergarten everyday with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I would read myself bedtime stories, and run to myself when the thunder and lightning scares me.
If I committed suicide, it would be a murder.
Then I would be the policeman who investigates my own death. I would be the undertaker, who straps me into a black shroud and into a coffin; into the flames; and then into an urn. I would be the preacher, saying everything good I had never heard about myself while I was alive as the coffin slowly enters the furnace. I would be the mourners; breaking down in anguished sobs as the nails are driven into the coffin. I would be the corpse, oblivious to the white static of cremation.
A year later, I would be the person who dedicates a column in the obituary "in loving memory of myself". I would be the little child who lays flowers on my grave.
And I wonder- after I died- would life still go on, then?

...Enough. I should really be trying to finish my homework now.
No more philosophical rants for tonight. It's back to The Jinx Of Holiday Homework. Have faith, my brethren- and let's go follow the drafthorse's carrot.


A new blog, and new posts.
Bravo, says I.

My sincerest apologies to those of you longsuffering folks who've had to change my links repeatedly over the past course of years...Indeed, I do apologise. *tips non-existent hat off to imaginary scowling audience*

To mark this grand occasion, I decided to fill this lovely empty blogspace up with...what else?...a poem. Written before CAP. A random doodad, but oh well.

{{THEHOLOCAUSTSYMPTOM}}
I dare you to feed me your lies; I promise
I will spit them back into your face-- tenfold
BELIEVE houses the presence of insidious LIE
Look once. And again. And again.

The garish mask of a dying court jester
While inwardly; peals silent tremulous laughter
Forgive me; I had quite forgotten that you see
But only the cheap glare of what I choose to show

You deck my shadow in a virginal shroud, but
I will hang no white flag upon the inner lie
Hang from the cathedral gallows, should you wish
For I am queen of a free land in my mind

Murder me if you will, and merrily I shall depart
With the happy knowledge of the sin vested
on your guilty fingertips- and forgiveness, dear,
shall be a boon you will not lightly earn.

The revelations of my soul; you discard- flippant
Hitler could not have done better; I am certain he
would applaud you. If I had wanted to suffer like this
I would have asked to be born in a jail-cell.

-----

Last night, I went for the Writer's Connect thing. I was so majorly psyched out- I was bouncing around in the car on the way there. And I saw (oh, the joy) the CAPpers! Yeah. Major family reunion. It was majorly cool. Our performance of Unwonderland didn't go as well as I'd have liked it to (my scream was rusty, soo.), but Choon Hiang's poem was the tops. I mean, seriously. Congrats, you!
After it had ended, we headed downstairs to the cafe in search of a drink. Unfortunately, it was in a really bar-like setting; and we highly doubted they served anything but alcohol.

"Excuse me, but we're under the age of 16. ...Um, do you serve any drinks to the underage group?"

...Doy. Wonderful, just wonderful. Congrats, Yi Yong- please don't ever use that as a pickup line.

Oh, for the love of chocolate covered crepes.

In any case. We walked to Raffles City and (after much consideration AND walking up and down) grabbed seats at Starbucks; where Kenneth, Gerald, Choon Hiang, Yi Yong and Nicholas bought themselves frightfully overpriced coffee and teas. I didn't get anything; 'cause, like, for one- Starbucks coffee is LOADED with sugar, and we shouldn't be drinking coffee at night anyway. And secondly, I had tea at home, and I saw no sense in forking out a frankly insensible sum for a cup of tea too hot to even drink. See? I'm smart. (smirk.) We chatted for a while- (will someone PLEASE explain how footie is entertaining?! I will never understand the complex mechanisms of the male mind.) and then I MRTed back home. (And YES, 2Gians...I can take the MRT by myself okayy. So do not underestimate me.)

...I was going to put a quiz here; but then I realized that it was horrendously long. Eeurgh. So it's nada to that, then.

Well. I'm off now. Mad rush to finish holiday homework.

Taa!